A David Letterman–Style Countdown for Ministry Leaders on the Long Road

I grew up on David Letterman’s Top Ten Lists — the dry wit, the sideways grin, the little grin that whispered, “This is ridiculous… but also kind of true.” Late-night TV might be having an identity crisis these days — Colbert recalibrating, Fallon tip-toeing, Kimmel dodging tomatoes — but I still miss the simple joy of a countdown.

Seminary?

It gave me a solid foundation — sturdier than most, honestly. They warned me about a surprising number of things. But there are lessons you can only learn in the trenches: the hospital rooms, the conflict debriefs, the late-night pastoral 911 texts, the funerals that punch you in the chest, and the quiet griefs no one ever posts about.

So here’s my Top Ten List for pastors, chaplains, ministry leaders, weary prophets, and faithful saints still wandering the wild:

Let the countdown begin.

10. Ministry Is Less About Fixing and More About Staying

Seminary taught me how to answer questions. Life taught me how to sit with people who don’t have any.

Most ministry isn’t brilliance — it’s proximity. It’s staying put when the problem doesn’t budge.

It’s the holy defiance of presence.

Soul care often sounds like breathing next to someone who forgot how.

9. You Will Be Blamed for Things You Didn’t Do (and Thanked for Things You Didn’t Do Either)

Psychologists call this transference. And it is ruthless.

People will project onto you their father, their former pastor, their wounder, their rescuer, their villain, their hope, their disappointment, and their childhood youth leader who banned Pokémon cards.

You’ll be the reason someone leaves — and the reason someone stays — even when you had nothing to do with either.

The Gospel trick is not avoiding projections but redeeming them: bearing the blame you didn’t deserve, and climbing down from the pedestal you didn’t earn either.

8. Your Job Is to Leave People With Jesus, Not With You

This is the uncomfortable truth: Pastors are temporary. Christ is eternal.

Every sermon, every bedside prayer, every whispered blessing — all of it should leave people leaning on Jesus, not leaning on you.

A ministry centered on you will crumble. A ministry that disappears into Christ will outlive you by generations.

Boundaries protect that. Humility practices it. Obedience requires it.

Your name fades. His doesn’t. And thank God for that.

7. You Can’t Shepherd People You’re Afraid Of

Sheep can smell fear. Church boards or sessions even more so. The people who intimidate you will accidentally disciple you — poorly.

Courage doesn’t mean confrontation; it means refusing to let anxiety drive the bus.

Seminary gave me theology. Experience taught me a steady hand.

6. Seasons Change — And You Must Change With Them

There is no “arrived pastor.”

Your twenties demand energy. Your thirties demand wisdom. Your forties demand humility. Your fifties demand pruning and perseverance.

There is no shame in change — only in refusing it.

The Spirit is always calling you forward, not back into the glory days that weren’t as glorious as you remember.

5. Pain Will Make You Bitter or It Will Make You Kind — Choose Early

Seminary taught me exegesis. Pain taught me compassion.

Suffering will enlarge your heart or shrink it; there is no neutral. If you don’t metabolize your pain with God, you will serve it — simmering — to your people.

Don’t preach your wounds unhealed. Don’t lead from scars you never surrendered.

4. Emotional Intelligence Is Important — A Sacred “Soft” Skill

Seminary gave me logos — truth, doctrine, structure.

Life forged ethos — integrity, character, credibility.

But no one told me how essential pathos would be — the emotional doorway the Spirit loves to walk through.
I’m not talking “emotionalism”.
This can be very destructive.
I’m talking emotional connection with the truth.

People shouldn’t just hear your sermon. They should feel them because God meant for his Word to be felt, not just understood.

Emotional intelligence doesn’t replace theology.

It incarnates it.

3. Don’t Trust Anyone Without a Limp or Anyone Who Fakes Limping Either

Paul had one. Jacob had one. Jesus carried scars to the grave — and out again.

Competence impresses. Brokenness transforms.

Beware the pastor with all answers and no wounds. Beware the leader who won’t say, “I’ve been broken too.” And conversely, also beware the pastor who uses authenticity to manipulate.

The kingdom moves forward on the shoulders of limping but honest saints.

2. If You’re Preaching Out of Skill Alone, It Will Fall Flat

The Holy Spirit changes people — not your eloquence or skill.

Aristotle gave us rhetoric. Paul gave us dependency.

Preaching isn’t about cleverness; it’s about making room for God to breathe through your weakness.

Some of the best sermons I ever delivered were the ones I thought terrible.
Only to find out the Spirit worked through them precisely so that I wouldn’t be confused who was really at work.

And the #1 thing I’ve learned since seminary…(cue the drum roll!)

1. Ministry Will Break Your Heart — And That Is Part of the Calling

If you love people deeply, they will hurt you deeply. If you give your life away, part of your life will stay with them. If you shepherd long enough, your tears will carve new channels in your soul.

But here’s the secret: A broken heart can hold more of God than a protected one. And the bruised places can become holy places — altars where joy eventually wanders home.

But Wait… There’s More (The Privilege of It All)

For all the wounds, late nights, betrayals, budget meetings, funerals, interventions, awkward small groups, and theological food fights…

There is nothing like ministry. Nothing like watching Jesus resurrect hope. Nothing like seeing a marriage rebuilt from ashes. Nothing like baptizing someone who once thought God hated them. Nothing like feeling — even for a fleeting second — the Spirit breathe through you in a way you cannot claim.

It is a strange, exhausting, sacred privilege. A calling none of us deserve. But a road none of us should walk alone.

So limp honestly, and let God keep breaking and remaking you…you’ll find joy threaded through the scars — just like resurrection always has been.

If you need a limping companion, let’s hook up.
I’ve got an extra staff to lean on if you want it. Just go to the “Get Started” link on this page and let’s chat.